Fleas
by Sheba the Lone Wolf
Summary: Blue feels sympathy for Hige when he gets a bad case of fleas and wants to help him. Hige/Blue. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Sheba the Lone Wolf does not own Wolf's Rain. **

**Dedication: Hotdogwolf because she liked the original version of this fiction. **

**Pairings: Hige/Blue. **

**~FLEAS~**

_Hige's P.O.V. _

Fleas.

I had fleas.

With a burning passion, every creature with fur or feathers hates fleas. Our definition of a flea is a pointless, blood-sucking demon created only to make us miserable. One flea becomes thousands within a matter of days; your misery increases with each passing minute. And the thick fur of a Mexican wolf only makes fleas twice as impossible to get rid of.

Sitting on the hotel room's sofa, I struggled to ignore the urge to scratch, fighting to focus on the usual depression of the news. Forgetting my intentions of ignoring the itch, I ran a hand through my chestnut brown hair and scratched my scalp; my dull fingernails were hopeless. Moving my hand to scratch my stomach, I craned my neck to gnaw hopelessly on my shoulder; there was a soft "crack!" as a flea was crushed between two teeth. After three minutes had ticked by, I had bent into an impossible position that would put one in the mind of a game of Twister. I was desperate to scratch every inch of my body, all at once.

"Hige."

When Blue had silently entered the room, closing the door behind her without a sound, my head was tucked beneath my right thigh, my left leg had managed to bend itself over my right shoulder, my hands were occupied with a shoulder and a forearm among the tangle, and I was nibbling uselessly on my ankle, squeezed between the coffee table and the sofa after I had fallen from the couch in an attempt to gnaw on my thigh.

Blue walked in a single circle around the sofa, the coffee table, and me. She giggled as I struggled to untangle myself. My cheeks burned.

"Hige, did you lose the Twister mat?" Blue asked. Tossing my head in frustration, I stood and, squeezing from between the sofa and the coffee table, walked to stand beside the television set. While my hands were occupied (again), I rubbed my shoulder vigorously against the TV, desperate to soothe the itch. Before the TV could fall from the stand, Blue caught the corners of it and shoved it back into place.

"Hige, what is going on?!" she demanded. "Are you drunk or on something? I leave for fifteen minutes and come back to find you trying to do God-knows-what and then, out of nowhere, you try to shove the TV off the table!"

Cheeks burning, I looked at the floor, studying the carpet that, soon, the fleas would be invading.

"Hige?"

"I have fleas," I squeaked. Fleas were an embarrassing subject, especially when I was talking to Blue. What babe as beautiful as her would want to cuddle with a guy who has fleas?

"Ah," Blue replied. Shoving me backwards and onto the sofa, she kneeled on my lap and parted my shaggy hair. Peering between the strands, she grimaced.

"Fleas," she clarified.

"You should keep your distance," I replied. "I wouldn't want you to get them too."

"Oh, believe me, I've had my share of fleas," Blue said. "And Pops never offered to help me get rid of them; he never even noticed when I had fleas. I've learned that a good bath, whether it's in a bathtub or a public fountain, is the cure. There are medications to help, but I never used them. Yet, I always got rid of fleas, no matter how many times I got the dreaded demons."

I groaned, the center of my back giving a terrible itch. Blue whimpered her sympathy.

"Where's the itchy spot?" Blue cooed. My cheeks burned again; she sounded like a child cooing to a puppy.

"My back," I replied. A strong hand pushed me forward and Blue bent over my shoulder, slipping a hand underneath my shirt to scratch my back. I shuddered at the feeling of her palm against my bare skin.

"Blue, could you get behind my ear?" I asked. I tilted my head to give Blue a better view of my ear. One of her nails carefully relieved the itchiness. Smiling, she took my earlobe between her teeth and nibbled softly. While she nibbled my earlobe, I proceeded to gnaw on my shoulder. Then, abruptly, her soft biting ceased and she stood. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me towards the bathroom entrance.

"Why are we going in there?" I asked. I would give it to myself, it was my stupidest question yet.

"To give you a bath," Blue replied. Her smirk was notable.

A bath, huh? That sounds like fun.

**A/N: Hmm, a little suggestive; exactly how I like it. Please review. **

**~Sheba~**


End file.
